


Logically Emotional

by chai_and_coffee



Series: Shallura Week 2018 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shallura Week, Shallura Week 2018, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, head heart, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_and_coffee/pseuds/chai_and_coffee
Summary: He is supposed to be strong. He is the head, the calm, logical head.That is what he was meant to do.As a leader, one has little time for anything else. There is no time to show weakness, and often times, the entire weight of the world falls on the leader’s shoulders.She changes that.~Written for Shallura Week 2018! Prompt: head | heart





	Logically Emotional

He is supposed to be strong. He is the **_head_** , the calm, logical head. 

 

That is what he was meant to do. 

 

As a leader, one has little time for anything else. There is no time to show weakness, and often times, the entire weight of the world falls on the leader’s shoulders. 

 

~

 

And for Voltron, that leader was him. He was the one everyone looked up to, the one everyone respected and listened to, and that meant that there was a standard he had to maintain. 

 

Nights were supposed to be his solace. Nights were supposed to be the times where he was allowed to relax, was allowed soften, was allowed to become the man he used to be. 

 

Nights were the times when he should have been able to mourn his lost Adam, mourn everything that happened to him, but even that was hard to come by. Most of the time, sleep was hard to obtain, and he lay awake, unable to silence the screaming in his head. When he did get sleep, it was plagued with nightmares and memories that he would rather forget. 

 

His only solace was that they were working towards a goal. They were working towards peace, and sometime soon, he would be able to let this facade crumble and become himself again. 

 

Most of the paladins revered him for his facade, and he wanted to scream, to lash out at the unfairness of it all, but that attitude was not befitting of a leader, and he couldn’t. So his emotions stayed buried. 

 

There was no cohesiveness, between any of this thoughts. Partially, because he wasn’t the same person he displayed. 

 

But then again, there was one person who could see through the walls he put up. 

 

~

 

The first time it had happened, it had happened so quickly that he hadn’t realized it immediately. 

 

Allura had been standing at the bridge, shoulders raised in solidarity, her focus completely devoted to the screens in front of her. He had wondered if she too, shared the same burden as he did, both being leaders. 

 

He had come up behind her wordlessly, and hadn’t known how to tell her that he wasn’t there to work, that he just wanted some time alone. But she had dismissed the screens with a wave of her hand, and had smiled at him. 

 

“Let’s sit, yes?” She had asked, and he had wordlessly sunk down next to her. 

 

Their moment had been spent in silence, and there had been nothing more. He had been aware of her breathing, of her soft intakes of breaths, and how she stared out at the starry expanses in front of them. 

 

It had been about fifteen minutes, when she had reached out, and gently rested a hand on his shoulders. She hadn’t squeezed or gripped or anything, just lightly applied pressure, and it released the tension that had been building up in his shoulders. 

 

He hadn’t realized it until he had made his way back to his quarters, and had spent all night thinking about that simple move. 

 

And it clicked. She knew. She knew about the pressure, she may even experience it herself. But she knew. 

 

He had been a bit apprehensive to see her the next morning. What would she do? Would she lash out at him, call him out on the phony facade he placed up. Would she tell all the others about it?

 

To his surprise, the morning had been as normal as ever. She had smiled and said her greeting to him, and had continued on her day. 

 

~

 

The second time, the situation had been a bit different. Shiro had been in the training room, hitting the Altean version of a punching bag. The cause of his aggravation had been his lack of sleep, and the previous mission had dug up memories that he wasn’t keen on visiting. 

 

She had found him, of course, (why was she always up?) and had gently taken him aside from the bag. Her gaze had not been condemning, but knowing, and she gently bandaged his bleeding knuckles up. He had appreciated that about her, that she hadn’t asked any questions or anything of that sort, but simply reigned him back. 

 

He had expected her to turn and leave him be after she finished bandaging his hands up, but instead, she had leaned up, reaching. He hadn’t known what she was going to do until the tips of her fingers pressed against his brow. He had immediately leaned into her slender fingers, but he realized that yet again, she had been dissolving the furrow in his brow after a tough night. 

 

“You know.” He had whispered, gently cradling her hand to his face, unable to let her let go of him. 

 

“I do.” She had said, softly. 

 

He had been scared to open his eyes, worried that he would find a trace of emotion in those icy blue orbs that would not do well for him.

 

“How?” He had asked, his voice barely rising above an airy whisper. 

 

“Because a good man like you—to be strong all the time—must mean that you have an abundance of skeletons in the room.” She had said, and a smile had curved onto his lips at the Altean misusing the phrase.

 

“Closet.” He had supplied. 

 

“Fine, no need to be picky, we can make it a closet if you’d like.” She had said, and he had fought the urge to laugh. 

 

He hadn’t responded for a few moments, and she took the lead once more. 

 

“Shiro, there’s no need for you to be strong all the time around me. There is a reason that I’m your partner. Let me take some of your burden.” She had whispered, and her palm had curved around his cheek, beckoning him to lean into it. 

 

~

 

And so he did. It had been slow, gradual at first, but as things progressed, things got better. It went from him shyly seeking her presence, late at night, to him wrapping his arms around her tightly and quietly crying over lost allies and lost loves. 

 

He told her everything, everything that he couldn’t tell others. He was safe to fall apart in her arms, because he had a guarantee that she would pick up the pieces as well. 

 

There was a different side of him when she was around, when it was just them. He was sweeter, made jokes, and actually laughed and smiled. Sometimes, when he didn’t want to talk, he would listen to her, listen to her worries, and pull her closer to give her the same security that she gave him. 

 

She called him “Takashi” when it was just them, by his own asking, of course. It made him feel better, a truer version of himself, and he enjoyed the way she said it. 

 

Sometimes she squealed Takashi when his hands tickled her ribs, sometimes she said it quietly and softly when his tears stained her nightgown, and sometimes she said it in a manner with so much affection that he couldn’t resist to sneak a kiss to her forehead. 

 

When she sleepily mumbled it, that was the best. Those were the times when she draped herself onto his chest, curling into him as though he was so comfortable, and murmured a soft assurance, and said his name as the last thing before drifting off to sleep. 

 

It got to the point where his heart didn’t ache as much anymore, where he was content to lazily twirl a silvery strand of her hair around his finger and listen to her talk. It got to the point where nightmares weren’t the worst things in his life, because her soft voice and cool lips were always there to greet him. 

 

It got to the point where he felt as though he deserved to be a man again, someone good, and worthy of affection and attention. 

 

Even now, as he looked down at the woman he so tenderly sheltered in his arms, he realized that as much as he was the head of voltron, she was their heart. Without her, there would be no passion flowing through their veins, there wouldn’t be the surge of adrenaline before a fight, there wouldn’t be the promise that this was all for the greater good. 

 

Without her, there was nothing to fight for.

 

And as much as he was the head, he was nothing without her. She was his **_heart_**. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a comment, tell me what you thought!
> 
> drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


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